Editor's Note

The Charge

They loved each other with the fierceness of those who have been denied
love!

Opening Statement

The Garden of Allah brings to life a world that never existed in
reality, only in Hollywood fantasy and forgotten novels. An old-fashioned story
even when it was filmed in 1936—it was based on a 1907 novel—this is
a tale of two troubled people finding love and redemption under the desert sun.
It's also one of the earliest directorial efforts of David O. Selznick, who just
a few years later would helm Gone with the
Wind. Although this is among the first motion pictures made by his fledgling
studio, Selznick International, he is already showing how ambitious he is. The
final result is a lavish curiosity, an earnest melodrama that demands that we
take its excesses seriously and even relish them. For those who can give
themselves over to the experience, it's a rewarding film, but for others, it may
carry a fatal aura of camp.

Facts of the Case

Beautiful, devout young Domini Enfilden (Marlene Dietrich, Stage
Fright) returns to the convent where she was educated to ask for advice from
her old friend and mentor, the Mother Superior. Domini has devoted her life to
caring for her sick father, and now that he has died, she sees no purpose in her
life. The Mother Superior counsels that she go to the Sahara desert—called
by the Bedouins "the Garden of Allah"—where she will be able to
find spiritual peace and hope for her future.

Once she reaches the Sahara, however, Domini finds even more: the darkly
handsome young Boris Androvsky (Charles Boyer, Love Affair), who seems also to be
suffering some private grief. Domini is drawn to this unworldly man, despite the
fact that she knows nothing about him, and when Boris asks her to marry him, she
doesn't hesitate. However, the truth that Boris is struggling to hide will
eventually come between them and threaten their love for each
other—because Boris is a Trappist monk who has run away from his monastery
and abandoned his calling.

The Evidence

Perhaps the best way I can sum up The Garden of Allah is to describe
it as a Garbo film without Garbo. Indeed, Selznick had originally hoped to make
the film with Garbo, but he eventually turned to the actress imported to be her
successor, Marlene Dietrich. It's easy to imagine Garbo in the role of Domini,
since so many of the roles Garbo played were women who embodied the spiritual
side of passion and found redemption through sacrifice. It's a bit more
difficult to imagine Dietrich, who often projects a sense of ironic amusement,
in such a role—particularly since the film is entirely free of irony and
could never support a self-aware performance at its heart. But Dietrich plays it
straight here and turns in an effective performance: As Domini, she is
convincingly vulnerable and gentle. The distinctive droop of her eyelids, which
often signals a wry, knowing quality, actually works just as well to convey
Domini's melancholy and spiritual weariness.

Opposite Dietrich, the young Charles Boyer is every bit as charismatic as
Dietrich in the role of the tormented Boris. At the time The Garden of
Allah was made, Boyer was a relatively fresh face, and this early role is
strikingly different from the smooth Continental lovers Boyer would play in
later years, such as his suave villain in Gaslight. Here he projects a tormented
insecurity and inner turmoil, even without the benefit of a great deal of
dialogue, since Boris is a man of few words. Until the monologue in which he
confesses his past to Domini, Boyer must rely for most of his performance on
facial expression and the posture and movement of his body, and he does an
excellent job of drawing us in and involving us. His combination of
vulnerability and smoldering emotion makes him a compelling romantic lead, and
the screen presence that would make him a star is already in evidence.

The supporting cast includes such distinguished actors as Basil Rathbone (of
the Sherlock Holmes film series) and C. Aubrey Smith, as well as a brief
appearance by Lucile Watson (The Women)
as the Mother Superior whose counsel Domini seeks. Viennese dancer Tilly Losch
(Duel in the Sun) makes her Hollywood debut as a seductive dancing girl
in a riveting scene that shows Boris's naïveté in matters of the
flesh: She singles him out, perhaps for his beauty, perhaps because she can tell
that he is susceptible, and transfixes him with a dance that's remarkable for
its eroticism in an era when films were bound by the ironclad prudery of the
Hays Code.

The actors are placed in a setting of exotic beauty, lovingly costumed and
photographed. The production values for the film bespeak Selznick's
perfectionism and lavish spending, from Dietrich's endless array of exquisite
chiffon gowns and scarves (not practical desert wear, to be sure, but a visual
reminder of her character's spiritual nature) to the carefully coordinated color
scheme that Merian Cooper designed to evoke paintings by the old masters. The
use of warm golds and creamy pale blues is so unified that it's startling when a
pure color enters the scene, like a red fez or a cobalt blue night sky. This
soft palette accentuates the dreamy, languorous quality of the story and makes
this film one of the most visually elegant of early three-strip Technicolor
works. In fact, Ronald Haver in David O. Selznick's Hollywood calls the
film "one of the visual masterpieces of 1930s picture-making" and
notes that it gave prestige to the then-new technology of Technicolor. Even if
the story doesn't appeal to you, the film's visual beauty alone makes it worth a
rental.

The DVD transfer does a handsome job of presenting the visual splendor of
the film. The colors are rich and saturated, just as one expects from
three-strip Technicolor, and the image shows remarkably few age defects; it also
seems to be very clean, and altogether it looks to have been taken from a
high-quality print. The picture is in full frame, in accordance with its
original aspect ratio; likewise, the audio mix is in the original mono. Although
the audio shows some shortcomings, such as occasional waver and flatness in
higher tones, these seem to reflect the limitations of the medium at the time
rather than flaws in the transfer, and overall the mono track is quite
serviceable.

The lack of extras is a disappointment; even filmographies of the major
stars would have been welcome. Also, although it's a minor point, the cover art
is of iffy quality: Boyer has been cut out of what was originally a handsome
double portrait of him and Dietrich, and Dietrich's face has as a consequence
been enlarged to the point of fuzziness and is ill framed with the text.

The Rebuttal Witnesses

The lavish production values of the film also extend to the musical score by
Max Steiner, perhaps the most popular and acclaimed film composer of the era.
Frankly, I am not a fan of Steiner; I often find his music sappy, although to
judge by the work of other composers of the 1930s, this was a popular style at
the time. Of course, a story of such heightened emotionalism as The Garden of
Allah demands a similarly demonstrative musical accompaniment, but I find
that Steiner's insistent music makes the mixture a bit too rich at times.

Indeed, the lushly emotional nature of the story will itself alienate many
viewers. Ours is an age of irony, and this is a film without a smidgen of irony;
it takes its emotional and spiritual dilemmas with complete seriousness, and
this earnest tone may strike modern audiences as laughable. I myself found it
difficult to take Boris and Domini's predicament as seriously as did the other
characters; I didn't think it was unforgivable of Boris to have, essentially,
decided on a career change. But the world of the film is one in which Boris's
decision actually seems to threaten his soul. To really enjoy this movie, you
have to be prepared to check your hip ironic detachment at the door and put
yourself in the mood for a good old-fashioned emotional wallow. If you can do
that, The Garden of Allah can be a satisfying nostalgic experience.

Closing Statement

By this point, I probably don't need to state the obvious: They don't make
'em like this any more. Its dated qualities will turn a lot of viewers off, and
I don't recommend a blind purchase, but if you are the kind of moviegoer who
loves watching Garbo or Kay Francis or even Susan Hayward suffer, you should
check out The Garden of Allah. At only 79 minutes, it's not long enough
to get bogged down with its own earnestness, and for fans of Dietrich and Boyer,
it's a chance to see both looking ravishing.

The Verdict

Guilt is for absconding monks and brooding heroines, not for gorgeous
Technicolor dramas about them. The defendant is free to mount its camel and ride
off into the desert.